The Seventh Witch by Shirley Damsgaard

Author:Shirley Damsgaard
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2010-02-01T16:00:00+00:00

Twenty

“I don’t believe it,” I cried, shooting to my feet. “Everyone said he died of a fever. Was there a fever going around?”

“Yes…” She hesitated. “The Robbins’ boy almost died from it, but Mother saved him.”

I slapped my leg. “There you go…you didn’t kill him…if anything he died from his own wickedness,” I insisted.

Abby reached out and took my hand. “But I’ll never know for sure, will I?” She squeezed my hand tightly. “I’ve lived with the uncertainty all of my life, and it’s one of the reasons why I’ve tried so hard to teach you restraint.”

“And you have,” I exclaimed, dropping to my knees in front of her. “When Brian’s killer came after us, I wanted to use the powers to hunt him down, but I didn’t. You stopped me.” I stared at her intently. “Now Sharon Doran wants to harm you. Don’t you have the right to protect yourself?”

She let go of my hand and stroked my cheek, her eyes full of love. “Protect, but not destroy. I want you to always remember the difference. I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did. They tried to destroy you,” I argued, “and you were simply protecting yourself.”

“No, I wasn’t. I wanted the old man dead, I wished for him to die, and he did,” she answered, convinced her words were true.

I rose to my feet and began pacing the room. “I don’t care what you say. I don’t believe you can kill someone just by wishing.”

“Ah-hem,” Lydia cleared her throat to get my attention. “What about Oscar?”

Abby’s eyes flew to Lydia. “What about him?”

Lydia nervously fingered her amulet. “Ophelia found a poppet right before she discovered him dead. It had a nail through the stomach.”

“Poohey,” I exclaimed, sliding to a stop. “Great-Aunt Mary said he’d had stomach problems for years and died of a hemorrhage.”

Lydia lifted an eyebrow and said nothing.

I resumed my pacing. “Even if Sharon did hex him to death, he wasn’t a witch…he couldn’t defend himself like you can,” I said, spinning toward Abby.

She seemed to shrink in the chair in defeat. “I committed a crime against that family,” she said with resignation. “If Sharon wins now, maybe this feud will finally end.”

“You’d sacrifice yourself?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

I was so angry at her and her selflessness that I wanted to throw a childish temper tantrum, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good. I tried another argument.

“If Sharon wins, what do you think is going to happen to the people in this valley and in these mountains? They’re already scared of her, and by besting this family, it will only add to her reputation.” I stared at Abby in defiance. “She will do what she wants, when she wants, and nobody will say a word against her. Is that what you want?”

“She’ll be punished in the end,” Abby said meekly.

I felt like shaking her. Nothing I said seemed to penetrate what she believed was inevitable. What could I say that would put the fighting spirit back in her?

I had it.

Throwing up my hands, I stopped my pacing.

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